


The Beginning Of Everything

by cazmalfoy



Series: Con-Men Do It Better [1]
Category: CSI: Miami, CSI: NY
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:30:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazmalfoy/pseuds/cazmalfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don Flack Jr started his career as little more than a glorified coffee boy for his partner. When two con artists are brought into the station, there's little he can do to resist the allure of their fulfilled lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning Of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2007 and originally posted on ff.net.

Don Flack Junior smoothed down his black tie nervously. He had graduated from the Academy two days ago and he had been looking forward to starting his new job as a junior officer with the New York Police department.

Much to his disappointment, they weren’t ready for him and didn’t have a partner to assign him with; no one had expected him to work his way through the academy as quickly as he had.

So Don had been shipped off to Chicago for a month. The Chief of Police in New York had called in a few favours and pulled a few strings, arranging for Don to spend some time in the Windy City; thus getting his feet wet before taking on the city that was the Big Apple.

The beefy looking officer on the reception barely looked up from the newspaper he was reading when Don approached the desk.

“I’m looking for Detective Mathers,” Don announced.

“Second floor, third door on the right,” the other man informed him, his gaze never wavering.

Wondering what he was getting himself into, Don began ascending the stairs (the lift was currently bearing an ‘out of order’ sign), heading up the two flights to his desired floor.

The receptionist had been wrong about which door was the Detective’s office Don noticed, when he saw a sign on the door labelling the room behind as Janitorial services.

“Excuse me,” he asked a passing officer quietly. “I’m looking for Detective Mathers, do you know where I can find him?”

“Yeah,” the young man replied, clearing his throat. “You’re looking at him.”

Don found that hard to believe; the man in front of him couldn’t have been any older than twenty-seven.

“Oh, I’m Don Flack,” he introduced himself, holding his hand out to Mathers. 

Mathers looked at Don’s outstretched hand. He didn’t take it; instead he placed a coffee cup in his palm. “Do me a favour, fill that for me?”

Don blinked in surprise. “Erm… sure.”

“You can dump your stuff here,” Mathers continued, opening a door next to the Janitors closet. “That’s mine,” he nodded to the desk closest to the window. “You can use Lou’s. He’s not using it.”

Don placed his things on the desk and slung his jacket over the back of the chair. “Why isn’t he?” he asked curiously.

“He’s dead,” Mathers shrugged nonchalantly.

~

Don loosened his tie and sighed heavily. He had been in Chicago for over two weeks now and he had done nothing but make coffee for the other officers and go out for their sandwiches at lunch.

He hadn’t been looking forward to working in Chicago to start with, but the past two weeks had reminded him exactly why he didn’t like it there. He was the new guy, the office junior. The one whose name no one knew unless they wanted something.

“Hey, Flackie,” Mathers said, approaching where Don was busy taking his frustration out on a spoon near the coffee-pot as he waited for it to boil. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“Going to Macdonalds?” Don asked sourly, looking at the liquid inside the clear kettle.

Mathers handed him a brown file. “We have two suspects in interview rooms A and B. Michael Jones and Jonathan Wilkinson.”

“What are they suspected of doing?” Don asked curiously, looking at the file in front of him.

“Swindling a rich woman out of $10,000,000.00,” Mathers informed him. “Every other detective in the precinct is out on homicides. This’ll be a good case to get your feet wet on.”

Don smiled nervously and moved to leave the break room. “Aren’t you coming with me?” he asked, noticing Mathers hadn’t moved.

“I’ve seen your file, kid. You graduated top of your class, you’ll do just fine.” Mathers flashed him a rare encouraging smile and poured himself a cup of coffee.

~

Jonathan Wilkinson was in interview room A.

Don stood observing him from the window for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he began.

Wilkinson was roughly 5’9 and had the most striking blue eyes Don could ever remember seeing. His booking information said he was twenty-four, three years older than Don was. 

The blonde looked up when the door opened and a smirk spread across his face when he saw Don enter the room.

“Ooh, I’m in trouble now,” he mocked, rolling his eyes. “They’ve sent in the big guns. I’m quaking in my boots.”

“Mr Wilkinson,” Don nodded, setting the file down on the table and closing the blinds over the window. “Please, take a seat,” he indicated to the small table in the centre of the room.

“I’d rather stand,” the blonde retorted, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the wall.

“If you insist,” Don muttered, taking a seat himself and opening the file. “The fingerprints we lifted from Mrs Aday’s home match the ones we took from you a few moments ago. Can you explain that?”

“I was at her house, big deal,” Wilkinson shrugged. 

“What were you doing there?” Don asked calmly, trying to remember what he had taught in the academy.

~

“I fixed her heating a few months ago,” Michael Jones shrugged his shoulders.

In interview room B, Don discovered Jones was different to his counterpart in every way possible. 

Jones was at least 5’10, with dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. Wilkinson’s blue eyes seemed to hold a slight glimmer of uncertainty as he and Don conversed.

Jones on the other hand, was every bit as calm and collected as he leant back in his chair and answered Don’s questions. 

The officer could only imagine that Jones was the more level-headed of the pair with his extra two years, giving him more knowledge and experience.

“You were fixing her heating?” Don repeated and Jones nodded. “That’s interesting because the prints we found weren’t on her radiators, they were on her safe.”

“I must have touched it as I passed,” Jones shrugged again. 

“Really? I should probably tell you that the safe was in the wall, covered by a painting of her late mother. So you can see why I have a hard time believing you touched it by accident.”

“How do you know Mrs Aday?”

~

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Wilkinson countered.

“We’re going to,” Don assured him. “When she’s flown back from Switzerland. She’s quite distraught that her money is missing.”

“Doesn’t she have a maid? They’re usually the thieves.”

“She does,” Don conceded. “And we’ve already interviewed her and she was only aware of the robbery when she came to clean that morning. She swears the safe was concealed behind the painting when she left the night before.”

“I have an alibi for that night,” Wilkinson smirked.

Don raised an eyebrow; an alibi had never popped into the conversation before. The arresting officer’s notes stated that neither of them could account for where they were at the time of the robbery.

“I’m listening… Where were you?”

~

“On a plane from Hawaii to Chicago,” Jones smirked, meeting Don’s blue eyes with his own brown. “We both were. First class. I can give you the name of the airline if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary because I don’t believe you,” Don retorted, glancing down at the folder in front of him.

He wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but the other man’s stare was so intense Don had to look away; it had felt as though Jones were looking through him into his very soul.

“How old are you?” Jones asked suddenly, breaking Don’s concentration away from the file in front of him.

“I… I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” Don stammered, slightly thrown by Jones’ question.

“I’ve always been good at guessing a person’s age. I’d say you’re about twenty-one, barely legal to drink.”

Don was beginning to feel slightly flustered. He didn’t know where Jones was heading and part was of him was intrigued to let this conversation play out, but the rest of him was terrified he would some how manage to implicate himself in something illegal.

“I don’t see what this has to with you and Mr Wilkinson…”

~

“Can you imagine having that much money?” Wilkinson had finally taken a seat and now leant forward, his elbows resting on the table in front of him.

His eyes were boring into Don’s, much like Jones’ had; only this time, Don found himself captivated. There was something in those blue orbs that mesmerised him and he couldn’t look away.

“$10,000,000.00 is a lot of money,” Wilkinson continued, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. It was obvious he knew he had Don under his spell and he had no problems using to his full advantage. “Imagine what you’d do with that much money.”

“Me?” he leant back in his chair. “If I was that rich, I’d buy a nice house in Europe. Somewhere in the countryside, far away from the city where I could make love to Mike and hear him screaming his release at the top of his lungs, knowing there wasn’t anyone around for miles to hear.”

Don felt himself blushing to the roots of his hair. He had known Jones and Wilkinson were accomplices but it never occurred to him that they were lovers as well.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Wilkinson commented, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smile.

“I…” Don shook his head. “Can we stay on topic please?”

~

“Why?” Jones challenged. “Does the fact that I find you attractive bother you, officer?”

He leant back and ran his eyes down the length of the other man’s body. “You’re very handsome. I bet you work out at least three times a week.”

Don found himself blushing once more. “I’ll ask you again…” He took a deep breath. “Where’s the money?”

“Nowhere near America I would imagine,” Jones replied. “Officer, I don’t think you understand, me and Johnny are going to walk out of here soon.”

“What makes you sure about that?” Don challenged.

“Because you have no evidence we did it,” Jones flashed him a smile, which made his stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“We have your finger prints at the scene.”

“Which any good DA would argue is nothing more than circumstantial evidence. They’d also tell you that until you find where the money has gone and prove we have access to it, no self respecting judge will give you the time of day.”

Jones rose from his seat and crossed the room, sitting on the table next to Don, his calf brushing the other man’s almost casually.

“But I do have a little proposition for you,” he continued.

Don swallowed nervously, the heat radiating from the other man was disturbing his concentration and focusing on the task at hand was suddenly extremely difficult.

“And what would that be?”

~

“How about a share of £10,000,000.00 and even more money than you could ever imagine?” Wilkinson suggested, lifting an eyebrow.

“Do you realise you’re incriminating yourself with that statement?”

“I’m not admitting anything. There are no cameras in here, you’re not recording this and there are no two-way mirrors. This conversation is just between us, making it your word against mine. And, let me be the first to tell you, that doesn’t hold up very well in court.”

Don remained silent as Wilkinson’s words sunk in. The dark-haired man realised he was right. No one else was going to be privy to details of the conversation that took place in those interrogation rooms.

He knew he shouldn’t but the thought of all that money was incredibly intriguing and Don found his inner voice pushing him to hear Wilkinson out.

“You didn’t answer my question, Officer.”

~

Don swallowed nervously. “That sounds like a nice sum of money.”

Jones grinned widely, brushing his hand across Don’s shoulder, removing an imaginary piece of lint.

The simple touch sent slivers of fire through the police officer’s body and he involuntarily whimpered when he felt the heat of Jones move away.

“Imagine what you could buy with that,” Jones continued, looking out of the barred window on the streets of Chicago. “A flash car, a nice house, all the women you could ever ask for.”

He turned back to Don and smirked. “Or all the men you could ask for,” he corrected, seeing the blue-eyed man’s flushed face.

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Don groaned when Jones straddled his lap. “Or is there anyone in particular you have in mind?”

~

“Okay,” Don whispered quietly.

Wilkinson’s eyes widened in surprise. “Okay?” he repeated, unsure if he had heard the other man correctly.

“I want in,” Don explained, his voice still no louder than a murmur. 

The other man grinned and covered Don’s mouth in a passionate kiss. “You won’t regret it, I promise,” he swore, pulling away an inch and looking into Don’s eyes.

“I have one question…”

~

“Why a cop?” Michael pre-empted and Don nodded. “For starters, we don’t want you just because you’re a cop. You’re hot and I know for a fact Johnny has a crush on you.”

“How would you know that? You’ve been separated since you got here.”

“Because I know Johnny,” Michael informed him matter-of-factly.

“And, to answer your question, we’ve been looking for someone to help and a cop seemed the most logical person. We need someone who can be our eyes and ears on the inside in case things got like they are right now.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” Michael scowled. “You people wouldn’t even know about us if we hadn’t been so sloppy. Trust me, that won’t happen again.”

He looked at Don and smiled before kissing him softly. “So you’re definitely in then?” he asked. “There’s no going back after you say yes.”

~

“I know.”

Don covered Jonathan’s mouth and devoured it hungrily. “I’m in,” he repeated.

The blonde’s smile got even wider. “You’ll be glad,” he swore. “We have a hell of a lot more money than what we took from that chick.”

“Oh really?” Don purred. “And how much would that be exactly?”

Jonathan leant forward and whispered a very large amount in Don’s ear. 

“You’re kidding?” The blonde shook his head. “How long have you two been doing this?”

“Six years,” Jonathan announced proudly. “And we’ve never got into a scrape before now. How are we going to get out of this?”

“You need an alibi for the night of the robbery. Michael said something about being on a plane at the time. That’ll fly, if I can prove it.”

Jonathan grabbed Don’s notebook and scribbled down a number. “Call this…” He tore the page out and handed it to Don.

“Who’s this?”

~

“It’s Billy; he’s our Lawyer. Tell him who you have in custody and you need to chase an alibi. He’ll fax over an airline itinerary with our names on it.”

Don eyed Michael; he was very attractive. He could understand why an eighteen year old Jonathan had been drawn to him and thus into this life.

“What about your fingerprints?” Don questioned.

“What about them?”

“They’re going to get put into the system. You’ll have a record,” he pointed out.

“Actually, Michael Jones is going to have a record and I’m home free,” the brunette corrected.

“If you’re not really called Michael, what’s your real name?”

Jones smirked and leant forward, whispering both their real names in the taller man’s ear.

~

“Don,” Mathers greeted as the younger man entered the small office. “How did it go?”

“They have alibi’s,” Don informed him. He handed him the printed itinerary Billy had faxed over. “Both were on a plane at the time of the robbery. There’s no way they could have done it.”

“How did they explain how their fingerprints were at the scene?” Mathers sighed.

“Both claim they don’t know how they got there. It looks like a bust, sir.”

“Yeah,” Mathers sighed. “I suppose I better release them. Damn it!” he exclaimed. “They seemed like good suspects.”

~

Don Flack grinned to himself as he pulled up to the building in front of him. The bright sunshine glistening off the top of the building was the most beautiful thing he could ever remember seeing.

He shut off the engine and climbed out of the brand new Lexus, sliding on his sunglasses as he went.

“Nice car,” a voice commented from the doorway. 

“Thank-you present from a friend,” Don answered, stepping up to the blonde.

“Anyone I know?”

The police officer bit his lip in mock-thought. “I think you might,” he admitted, kissing the shorter man.

The blonde, who was now using the name ‘Paul’, moaned and threaded his hands through Don’s black hair.

Don groaned when he felt another pair of arms slid around his waist. Normally he would have been surprised, but he knew those arms could only belong to their other lover, who had now assumed the name ‘Jack’.

“How was your first day?” Jack whispered in his ear, tugging on his ear lobe with his teeth.

“A hell of a lot better than my first day in Chicago,” Don replied, turning his head and kissing the brunette hotly. “There wasn’t a cup of coffee in sight.”

Both men laughed before Paul took hold of Don’s hands and pulled him into the building, heading to their luxury apartment where both proceeded to congratulate Don on a good first day with the NYPD.

The End


End file.
